consciousness
not that of my body, but that of my soul
i'm splashed with color of the serpents tint
or was it the hue of my life?
that's why i'm here
i alone brought me to this place
yet it was not of my doing
what never could be
is
my workmanship preceeds me, and i, not yet existing, stand and stare in
disgusting ecstacy
my mind explodes
it is not needed
all i need is to kill, and i must kill all i need

my hand is heavy with the deadly force
its compliments are thrust thrice into my perfect template
the warmth is separated, and the white, now black, becomes no more
now finished, i can begin

the color is stripped by stripes of itself
the ugly deed lost in its shadow
a crossed pattern of absence
on a hill far away
 
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